


From Foggy, With Love

by Zelofheda



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelofheda/pseuds/Zelofheda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy wins Matt in a card game.  It wasn't the outcome he was hoping for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Foggy, With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the Daredevil Kinkmeme: Foggy wins Matt in a card game. 
> 
> This is what happened when _that_ prompt went through _my_ brain.

After they’d rescued Foggy, after Clint had flown everybody in the Quinjet to Avengers Tower so that Bruce could check Foggy over to make sure he wasn’t hurt more than just a few scrapes and bruises, they all sat down in Tony’s lounge for a drink. In retrospect, the kidnapping hadn’t been bad at all, mostly just surprising, annoying, and only a little frightening. In the jovial post-mission atmosphere, Foggy soon relaxed and started to enjoy himself. Eventually, however, he was just about to suggest to Matt that they go home when Tony pulled out a huge deck of cards.

“Hey, Matt, look, I got Uno for you – in Braille!”

“What’s Uno?” Matt asked, and Foggy gaped at him in surprise. “Matt, seriously? You’ve never played Uno?”

“No,” he replied, taking another sip of beer. 

“No, way, buddy, everybody’s heard of Uno. It was around a long time before we were even born,” Foggy protested, but when Matt shrugged, he explained, “It’s a card game. You get seven cards in your hand at the beginning. Then you turn over a card from the pick-up pile to form a discard pile. When it’s your turn, you put down a card that’s either the same colour or the same number as the card that’s on the discard pile.”

“Or a wild card,” Tony added. “Or a Draw Four. That means the person next to you has to draw four cards from the pile.”

“if you only have one card remaining in your hand, you have to say ‘Uno,’” Foggy went on. “If you don’t say it, and somebody calls you on it, then you have to take two cards.”

“And then there are the regular Take Two cards,” Tony added. “But they have to be the right colour for you to use them. Then the person next to you has to take two cards from the pile.“

“And the Reverse cards,” Bruce added. “Then you switch direction.”

“The person who gets rid of all his cards first is the winner,” Foggy finished.

“This sounds like fun,” Steve said inching closer to the table. “Can I see?”

He looked at the cards, feeling the Braille letters at each end before handing them on to Thor. “That’s pretty cool. They didn’t have Uno back when I was young.”

“Had they even invented Braille back then?” Clint asked, and Steve threw a cushion at him. Thor passed the cards along to Matt, who read the Braille inscriptions with what Foggy hoped was interest.

“I have also never heard of this game,” Thor said. “Is there gambling involved?”

“There can be,” Foggy told them. “The winner could get something. Or the person who loses with the most points in his hand could forfeit something.”

“That could be fun,” Thor conceded.

“So, everybody, want to play?” Tony riffled the deck eagerly in Matt’s direction, and Matt shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Let’s do a practice round for Matt and anybody else who’s never played,” Foggy suggested, lacing his fingers together and stretching his arms out until his knuckles cracked. Matt winced visibly at the sound, and gave him a playful punch in the bicep as Foggy went on, “I used to be really good at this in Game Club at school. We’d use it to warm up sometimes before we went on to the hardcore board games.”

“What did you guys consider hardcore?” Clint asked. “I played Settlers of Catan once.”

“Oh, yeah, Catan is great. But Puerto Rico was always my favourite. El Grande was good, too,” Foggy said. Nobody else appeared to have heard of Puerto Rico, or Catan, and Matt didn’t even tease him with their private joke about “El Grande Avocados.” He sighed. The Avengers were probably big on video games in their spare time.

They played a practice round, and to Foggy’s relief, Matt found it easy enough to pick up, even though he yawned several times when it wasn’t his turn. Thor and Steve also had no difficulties. The next game, Tony suggested that the winner should get up and get everybody another drink.

“That’s not a reward, that’s a punishment,”Natasha protested, but they played it that way anyway, mostly because Tony took a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and offered to pay the ‘waiter.’ Foggy did his best, certain that Matt could hear his accelerated heartbeat at the sight of good hard cash, but it was Bruce who won. He had stayed behind during the rescue, as they hadn’t needed or wanted the Hulk, which Foggy thought was kind of a bummer, as he’d always wanted to see the big guy up close. Not that he’d ever admit that to anybody, though.

“Same again, everybody?”

Everybody agreed except Matt, who murmured, “Nothing more for me, thanks.”

“You falling asleep already?” Foggy asked, though he was starting to feel the effects of his kidnapping himself. Still, it was nice to unwind with the Avengers – _the Avengers!_ – and playing his favourite card game as well. One of his favourite card games. Maybe he wouldn’t have nightmares after this.

“What can we use as a reward for the next round?” Steve asked as Bruce passed around the drinks.

“How about the winner gets a foot massage from the one with the most points?” Natasha suggested. Everybody agreed, and play was fierce until Clint slapped down a Take Four as his last card.

“Damn, I really wanted that foot massage for myself,” Tony said, and Natasha looked coolly at him. “So did I.”

Then there was a slight argument about whether the game was over at that point, or whether the person next to him, which happened to be Thor, should take the four cards first. Although Foggy pointed out that his game club members had always insisted on the loser taking the cards, he offered the possibility of a vote. Every hand except Thor’s went up, and of course the extra cards gave him the highest number of points.

“Would you like your foot massage now?” Thor asked formally, even though Clint was already pulling off his socks and extending his feet.

“Do we have to wait for you, or can we go on to the next round?” Tony asked. “I like the idea of the foot massage.”

“You guys can go ahead. Unless you really want Thor to do your feet, which, umm, I can really recommend, by the way, ahh!” Clint told them, then lapsed into simply making little sounds of pleasure.

“Do you like that?” Thor asked. “I’ve never done it before. In Asgard, we have slaves for this sort of thing.”

There was an awkward silence until Foggy said, “Well, seems you learned from the best, then, but speaking as somebody who’s just been chained to a wall and threatened with a real whip, can we not talk about slaves anymore, okay?”

“I apologize, I meant no offence,” Thor said.

“It’s okay, it’s fine.” On his left, Matt snored lightly, and Foggy glanced over, not surprised that his friend had fallen asleep. But then an idea formed instantly in his mind and, as happened to him much too often, the idea shot from his brain to his mouth through that strange passageway that he’d never managed to block or even filter. “But, um, speaking of the opposite of slavery, how about the winner of the next round gets Matt for the weekend?”

“Hang on, you just said, gets Matt for the weekend, but you’re talking about the opposite of slavery?” Tony asked. “What exactly can we do with him? Is that even a win?”

“Um, well, I meant to say, the winner gets to pamper Matt for the weekend. Or the loser of the next round gets him. Either way, it’d be a win for Matt,” Foggy said. “Because he needs to sleep. He needs rest, recuperation, good food and somebody to make sure he eats it, and then more rest. If there were some magic spell that would heal all his injuries instantly, he’d need that, too. Well, okay, he does need it, desperately, but there just isn’t one. You guys wouldn’t believe what he puts himself through as Daredevil. He goes out too often, he stays out too long, he gets hurt too much … Okay, maybe you guys would understand, but Matt’s just a human, you know? A really, really vulnerable human. He needs help, and the thing is, he won’t usually take it from me. So maybe one of you guys could, you know, pamper him a bit? Feed him up, give him a foot massage, make him rest, that sort of thing? Just for the weekend? It wouldn’t be too bad. He’s pretty good company most of the time.”

There was a silence, and when it had gone on long enough to become weird, Foggy grimaced. “Okay, sorry, sometimes I say dumb things. I know Matt wouldn’t like you guys knowing all that, so just forget it, and I’ll take Matt and go home now. We can pretend I never said anything.”

“No, it’s a good idea,” Natasha said. “I like it, in fact. And after our next mission, you guys can play for the chance to pamper –“

She stopped dramatically, and both Clint and Tony jumped in at once to cry, “Me!” but Natasha gave them her best “deadly assassin” look before finishing her sentence with “Bruce.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m not even falling asleep, see?” Bruce protested, then yawned suddenly. The others laughed, and Foggy said, “You sound just like Matt, you know that? No, no, I’m fine, I’m just running on two hours of sleep a night, a concussion, and six cracked ribs, but I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Bruce looked away, and Foggy suddenly wished he hadn’t said anything. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re nothing like Matt, you’re much stronger – I mean, part of you is much stronger … and maybe you can even pull me out of this huge hole I’ve just dug for myself.”

“We can all take turns being pampered,” Steve said before Bruce could react to that. “Matt first, then Bruce, and then Natasha, and then we’ll go in alphabetical order after that. Clint, me, Thor, Tony.”

“How about by last name, then it’ll be my turn before Thor’s?” Tony suggested. “Barton, Rogers, Stark, Thor.”

“Barton, Odinson, Rogers, Stark,” Natasha put in. Foggy couldn’t help giggling at the look on Tony’s face.

“If we go according to the Asgard alphabet, it would be me, Clint, Steve, and then Tony,” Thor said.

“Asgard has its own alphabet?” Clint asked, and Thor began to recite, “F, U –“

“Don’t tell me the next letter is C?” Tony drawled, which was just what Foggy had been thinking, and there were a few giggles from around the circle.

Thor looked slightly irritated and confused, knowing that a joke had gone over his head, but then he graciously chose to ignore it. “There is no letter C in the Asgard alphabet, but since a C can sound like a K, I took K for Clint instead. Actually, the next letter is þ—“

“Did I ever tell you that Tony is actually short for Anthony?” Tony asked.

“Then you still come after me,” Thor said, and continued on with, “A, R, K –“

“All right, all right, never mind. How about we draw names out of a hat after Natasha’s turn?” Tony suggested. “And anyway, we were talking about Matt first, and the loser gets to take care of him for the weekend. So, who deals?”

Steve shuffled and dealt. Foggy, eager to see Matt get some tender loving care for once, or at least some kind of care, tried very hard not to lose, but of course Bruce, next to him in order of play, got Uno rather quickly, and then, when it was his turn again, hesitantly put a yellow Draw Two onto the yellow 5 on the discard pile. So Foggy had to take the next two cards before the game was officially over, and of course they were both Draw Four cards, worth fifty points each.

“Well, that didn’t work out the way I’d planned,” he groaned, showing his hand. There was scattered laughter from the others around him as he went on, “Guess I’d better wake Matt up and get him home. If he’s this tired, maybe he’ll sleep to-night instead of going out again.”

He leaned over and shook his friend. “Matt, wake up. Come on, time to go home.”

“You don’t have to go home,” Tony said. “You guys can stay here.”

“Matt?” Foggy asked, shaking him again. “You wanna go home and sleep, or you wanna stay here and sleep?”

“Home,” Matt murmured. Without opening his eyes, he continued, “I hate it here. I don’t know my way around, I don’t have my cane, there’s too much glass, it interferes with my senses. And ever since he found out I was blind, Tony’s wanted to get me into his lab so he can _experiment_ on me.”

“I resent that!” Tony exclaimed. “Yeah, I might be a bit curious, but, hey! You gotta admit, Murdock, you’ve got some pretty cool powers.”

At that, Matt opened his eyes and sat up. “They’re not _powers,_ Tony.”

“What’s the difference between powers and heightened senses, huh?” Tony demanded. “Seriously, what is the difference?”

“I’ll drive you guys home,” Bruce said suddenly, and Tony looked hurt.

“Bruce! Back me up here! You’re supposed to be my science bro.”

Bruce shot him a quelling look as he stood up. Foggy stood up as well and took Matt’s hand to lead him out of the tangle of Avengers, chairs, and tables.

“Okay, okay, I promise not to experiment on you,” Tony called after them. “You really can stay here if you want. I’ll let you use the sauna. And the gym. And the swimming pool. Even the hot tub!”

They went out, and when they were finally in the elevator, away from everybody else, Bruce said, “I’m sorry, Matt, I didn’t know he was so … Is that why you don’t want to join us?”

“Urgh,” said Matt, trying to speak and being overcome by a yawn as soon as he opened his mouth. “Sorry. Yeah, that’s part of it. Thanks for helping rescue Foggy, by the way.”

Bruce smiled a little and Foggy knew he couldn’t have missed the sudden change of topic. “I didn’t do anything, but on behalf of the other Avengers, you’re welcome.”

“You can tell them thanks from me, too,” Foggy added. “And thanks for offering to drive us back, too.”

They emerged into the underground garage and Bruce led the way to an official looking black SUV. “Sorry it’s so conspicuous. It’s the only one I’ve got a key for.”

“Hey, any car is a good car right now,” Foggy replied as Bruce clicked the key to open the locks. “Matt doesn’t like going on the subway even when he’s not dressed like Daredevil. Front or back, Matt?”

“You sit up front, you have to tell him where to go,” Matt replied, feeling around for the door handle. 

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a good backseat driver,” Foggy protested. Bruce laughed and said, “It’s all right, I already know where to go.”

Foggy moved Matt’s hand from the front door to the back. “Here, if you really want to sit in the back. Pretend we’re chauffeuring you around as part of the Pamper-Matt-Weekend.”

Matt got in and fumbled for his seat belt. “The what?”

Foggy waited until they were all in the car before he answered. “The Pamper-Matt-Weekend. Well, I suppose it won’t be much of one now, but I can still try. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“You’re always trying to pamper me, Foggy. What would make this weekend any different?”

“Because I won you in a card game?” Foggy suggested. “Although actually, I lost.”

“What,” Matt said, and it wasn’t even a question.

“Foggy suggested that the loser should get to pamper you for the weekend,” Bruce put in helpfully as they drove up the ramp and out through the security gate. “Feed you up, give you massages, let you sleep, that sort of thing.”

“You bet me in a card game?” 

“Yup,” Foggy admitted. “I was hoping one of the Avengers would lose and they’d take good care of you for the weekend, but then it turned out to be me.”

“I only fell asleep for five minutes!”

“It was closer to twenty, and it’s exactly because you _did_ fall asleep, Matt,” Foggy explained. “You’re tired! You’ve been doing too much lately! You get hurt too often, you don’t let yourself heal before you go out again, you don’t eat properly – and all that was _before_ I was stupid enough to get myself kidnapped. You’ve probably been running yourself ragged ever since then, and you weren’t in good shape to start out with.”

“Foggy, you weren’t stupid.”

“Stop trying to change the subject, Matt. I was there, I know what happened. And we were talking about your eating habits, such as they are.”

Matt tried again. “I do eat properly. I eat better than you, Foggy.”

“You keep picking and poking at your food like you’re expecting to find mouse droppings in it! I mean, yeah, _what_ you eat is good, but you just don’t eat enough of it. I know, I know, it’s all your heightened senses, but couldn’t you just put a clothespin on your nose occasionally and stuff yourself without worrying about everything you think you can taste?”

“I could come over and cook for you to-morrow,” Bruce offered. “I usually go to a Greenmarket for fresh food on Saturday mornings anyway, and after living in India, I’m really good at getting the mouse droppings out before they get cooked.”

“Oh, gross!” Foggy replied, and heard Matt chuckle weakly from the back seat.

“That’s a good idea, though,” Foggy realized. “How ‘bout it, Matt? Let Bruce come feed you lunch or something?”

“I don’t want to impose,” Matt said, “and anyway, Foggy’s the one who lost the game, not you.”

“It’s no problem,” Bruce said. “I can even give massages, if you like.”

“Can you really?” Foggy asked. “Maybe you could teach me …?”

“Sure, we could practice on Matt,” Bruce suggested.

“No,” Matt said firmly. “No practice. No massage.”

“You need a good massage,” Foggy said. “I hear they’re really relaxing. A good massage could put you right to sleep.”

“No,” Matt said again.

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” Foggy realized. “You don’t want us touching you because we’ll find out just how badly you’re hurt.”

“It’s just some bruising,” Matt protested. “On my back.”

“I hope you really mean bruising, and not cracked bones,” Foggy said, and yes, Matt remained suspiciously silent.

“Yeah,” Bruce finally said. “Okay, I won’t push. But just so you know, you can take me up on it any time, it doesn’t have to be this weekend.”

“There won’t ever be a time when Matt isn’t bruised and battered,” Foggy said, then sighed. “So I guess this so-called Pamper-Matt-Weekend is just going to be the same old, same old.”

There was another silence from the backseat. After a moment, Bruce said, “Some people like it when it when it’s the same old, same old. They like the routine, they don’t feel comfortable with people making a big fuss over them.”

Foggy thought about that and sighed. “Yeah, I guess. I just worry about Matt, you know?”

“I know,” Bruce said, giving him a quick, sideways smile. “I know.”

Foggy thought back to the conversation the Avengers had had right before the fateful card game. “Seems like Natasha worries about you like that, too.”

“A little bit,” Bruce agreed. “She’s the one who taught me how to massage. It was learning by doing – and being done to.”

“So can you kill people with your thighs, too?” Foggy asked, then realized what he’d said, and to whom he’d said it. “Oh, g-d, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that!”

Matt laughed a short, sharp laugh from the backseat, and thankfully, Bruce just smiled. “I don’t think that’s part of a regular massage. She didn’t teach me that part, anyway.”

“Wait, I thought we were taking Matt home first,” Foggy realized as the car came to a stop. “This is my building.”

“Drive around into the alley,” Matt said. “It’ll be easier from there for me to make sure Foggy gets into his apartment safely.”

“And who’s going to make sure you get home safely?” Foggy asked as the car started up again.

“You were the one who was kidnapped, Foggy. I’ll be fine.”

“And will you stay home safely so you can rest?” Foggy added.

There was that silence again, that particular silence that did not mean assent, that particular silence that Foggy was starting to hate. Gritting his teeth, he breathed out heavily through his nose. “Matt …”

“So, Bruce, which Greenmarket do you usually go to?” Matt asked suddenly, and Foggy sighed, wanting to tell him not to change the subject again, and knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

“Actually, there’s one not too far from here that I like,” Bruce said. They bumped through the alley and came to a stop by Foggy’s building. “Have you ever been?”

“Once or twice,” Matt said. “So, um, maybe I’ll see you around there some time.”

“’Some time’ meaning ‘not to-morrow’?” Bruce guessed.

“No,” Matt said. “Not to-morrow.”

Foggy knew when he was defeated, and opened the car door to get out. Matt got out as well, and Foggy took his arm, then walked him around the car to Bruce’s side. Bruce obligingly opened the window, and Foggy said, “Thank you for driving us home, Bruce, and in case we don’t see each other again very soon, I hope you have a fun time when it’s your turn to be pampered.”

“Thanks,” said Bruce with his shy, self-deprecating smile. 

“Enjoy the massages, the hot tub, the sauna, the healthy meals, all the Avengers at your beck and – ow!” Foggy jerked as Matt poked him, and Bruce’s smile became more genuine. He rolled up the window, and Foggy gave him a wave as he drove off, then gave Matt a little kick with the side of his shoe.

“Ow,” said Matt in a tone of voice indicating it hadn’t hurt at all.

“I ought to kick you again,” Foggy said as they walked towards the back door of his building. “I really think you’d prefer that over being pampered.”

“Objection, Counsellor, that is simply not true,” Matt said.

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it anyway,” Foggy confessed.

“I know.”

“I only want the best for you,” Foggy went on, and dug into his pocket for his keys.

“I know,” Matt said again.

“Kinda stupid, huh?” Foggy opened the door and they went in. The light in the back of the hall had burnt out and Foggy was strangely glad for Matt’s arm as they made their way to the stairs. 

“Betting me in a card game was stupid,” Matt clarified. “But I understand your reasons, Foggy. And they were not stupid.”

“So you’ll let me pamper you this weekend? Just a little bit?” When Matt didn’t answer, Foggy groaned. “Yeah, I knew it. I must really be stupid to think you’d let me treat you better than you treat yourself.”

Matt stumbled on one of the steps and Foggy heard him hiss audibly as the sudden motion jarred one of his injuries. 

“You all right, buddy?”

“I’ll let you pamper me,” Matt conceded. “Just a little bit. I’ll go home and take a painkiller, then stay in the rest of the night. And you can come over to-morrow and make lunch.”

“Whoa,” Foggy said. “Should I order a coffin and a gravestone, too?”

“What?” Matt asked, completely caught by surprise.

“Well, you’re obviously dying …” They reached Foggy’s apartment and he stopped to look directly at Matt. “You never would have given in if you weren’t. You’re hurt worse than you’re letting on, aren’t you?”

“No,” Matt said, then yawned until it seemed he’d never get his mouth shut again. “No, I’m just tired. You were right about me running myself ragged even before you got kidnapped. And … you’re not stupid, Foggy. You’re not stupid at all.”

“Thank you,” Foggy said, and wondered if his remark about the way Matt treated himself had hit home. “For the compliment, and for admitting that you’re in need of being spoiled occasionally. Want to come in? I’ve got some of that tea you like.”

“If I could just use your window,” Matt said.

“My window is your window,” Foggy said, “You know where it is, but, please, go straight home and don’t get in any fights on the way.”

Matt gave him a quick smile that could mean anything, then made his way over to the window in question, opened it, and climbed out onto the fire escape. Foggy pulled out his phone, stared at the time display, waited five full minutes, then dialled his mother.

“Hi, Mom, I need to ask you a really big favour,” he said. “You know that chicken pot pie recipe? Could you, possibly, please make that to-morrow morning?”

“I could,” his mother replied, “and so could you. Heaven knows I’ve showed you how, often enough.”

“Well, I’d do it myself, but yours always tastes better, because, yeah, the whole “mom” thing,” Foggy replied.

“The whole “mom” thing?” his mother asked, sounding amused.

“You know,” Foggy wheedled slightly, “made with love?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” his mom replied. “And do I have to deliver it _with love_ too, or are you going to pick it up?”

“It’s for Matt,” Foggy said. “If I come over at about noon, can you drive me and the pie over to his apartment?”

“Oh, it’s for Matt!” his mother exclaimed in mock surprise, because of course Foggy never asked for chicken pot pie for himself. “Oh, well, why didn’t you say so? Yes, of course, I’ll have it ready and waiting. I’ll even put in extra vegetables, I know he likes those.”

“Thanks, mom, you’re the best,” Foggy said. “I’ll see you then. Love you!”

“Love you, too, Foggy,” his mom replied. “See you to-morrow.”

Almost as soon as he’d hung up, his phone buzzed with an incoming SMS. Expecting to read that Matt had arrived home safely, Foggy opened it up.

_Tell Mom if extra vegetables, no rutabagas like last time, prefer broccoli. Greatest thanks._

“Dammit Matt!” Foggy exclaimed out loud. “That was supposed to be a surprise! Now get off my roof or wherever you are, and go to bed!”

But then he couldn’t help grinning, and it made him smile even more because he knew that Matt, parkouring across the rooftops to get to his own apartment building, would be grinning the whole time as well.

**Author's Note:**

> The "Asgardian" alphabet is actually the Futhark alphabet, based on old Germanic and Scandinavian runes.


End file.
